The Nerve Of That Woman...Part III

"That will be $88.32," said the cashier. "What are you talking about? You haven't rung up any of my stuff yet." "Well, that lady said you were going to pay for her groceries. She said that you were her Great Niece and that you take her out to Walmart once a month to purchase the things she need." "I don't know who that woman is, I've never seen her before today and I'm certainly not paying for her groceries," I replied. "Well, Ma'am, she said she knew you. You were being very friendly towards her. Are you running some sort of scam? If you are, you could be charged with shoplifting or as an accessory." "I don't know that woman, and I am not running some sort of scam. Why do you let people walk away without paying for their stuff? You better call security. Where did she go? She's gonna get away with it if we don't go find her. Come on, let's see if she is still in the parking lot." At that moment, the cashier, the security guard, the manager and myself went running outside to see if the lady was still in the parking lot. As we looked over the parking lot the Walmart employees began to look at me suspiciously. They thought I was a part of this lady's scam. All I had been doing was being nice--lending a sympathetic ear. I had been taught to be polite to my elders, and now, I might end up in jail...

The Nerve Of That Woman...Part II

...I wasn't really paying attention to what they were talking about. I had just discovered a copy of The Global Wacko News that had Tim Ruse on the cover saying that he was the reincarnation of Lon R Cupboard and was trying to convert the world into his new class of Cosmetology that would be opening new centers worldwide whenever he had another hit movie and earned enough money to do so. (Good luck with that.) The little old lady kept gesturing and smiling at me. I didn't want to be rude so I gave a little half-smile and nodded in agreement to whatever they were so animated about. You know what I'm talking about. When somebody tells a joke and you laugh along anyway even though you don't get it. By now, there was enough space on the belt for me to begin placing my purchases alongside the lady's items. My first item was a huge 16-roll pack of toilet paper that was on sale and it separated my things from hers. It also separated me from her as she gave another wave and headed out the door. "That was awfully nice of you," said the cashier. "Your Great Aunt said you was going to pay for her groceries. That will be $88.32." "Excuse me..."

The Nerve Of That Woman...Part I

I had to go to Walmart the other day to pick up a few things I needed and took my cart over to the checkout lanes when I finished. Of course, all of the lines were extremely long so I just settled into line behind a little old lady that closely resembled my late Granny. "Oh, my goodness!" she exclaimed. "I don't know how these people can get away with charging 3 dollars for a loaf of bread. I'm just a little old lady on a fixed income and I can't afford these prices. I stayed at home my whole life caring for my husband and my children only to be left nearly penniless by some fat cat up in New York, Wall E Street, I think it's called. That madman, Milhoff, took all of our money and spent it on thousand dollar golf shirts. A thousand dollars for a shirt, who would pay that? I was hoping to have an easier time in my Golden Years and now I can barely afford food for me and my retarded son. I had to leave him out in the car because I upset him when I get to complaining about these prices. I don't mean to, but I'm doing the best I can." "I'm sorry to hear that," I said. I felt sorry for the lady, I really did. Times are tough all over. I hadn't lost any money to that Milhoff guy but I had lost one of my part time jobs and was beginning to feel the pinch myself. It was finally her turn to begin placing her items up on the register belt and she began talking to the cashier and pointing to me in a friendly manner...

Getting A Haircut...Part III

...my eyes grew wide as I watched the scissors inching closer to my ear with each shake of her hand. Is she going to jab me with those things I wondered? (Nudge) What was that? (Shake) I knew what that was. But what about the nudge? (tremble) It seems that the stylist had a very large belly and kept bumping into me every time I started to worry about her unsteady hand. (Nudge) Where is she cutting now? (tremor) Is she near (nudge) my ear again? I didn't sign up for all of this. I didn't want to be asked a whole bunch of questions about my preferred shampoo fragrance or my personal life. I didn't want to worry about having my throat slit or my ear cut off because my hair stylist had some sort of malfunctioning muscle twitch that she couldn't control. (Bless her heart, I know she can't control it, but she might want to think about a different profession.) I didn't want to be belly-bucked around by anybody either. All I wanted was a haircut. After what seemed like hours of being jostled around, and me having laid my whole life story out to this poor shaking hair stylist, she placed her scissors on the counter, handed me the mirror and spun me around in the chair. "I think things went pretty well," she said. "I have a twitch that gets out of hand sometimes when I'm nervous, but, I didn't feel it at all today. You see, I just graduated from Cosmetology School and today is my first day here and you were my first customer. How'd I do?"

Getting A Haircut...Part II

"How long you been in Georgia?" "Let's see, I moved down in '87 when I needed to transfer to a 4-year university. I was majoring in Education and thought I wanted to be a teacher..." It was then I noticed something out of the corner of my good (left) eye that caught me a little off guard. The lady that was cutting my hair had the shakes, the tremors, the trembles, whatever you want to call it. She had an unsteady hand and was holding a pair of razor sharp shears heading directly towards my left ear. "Honey, when did you say that you moved to Georgia?" "It was 1987." (tremble)(snip) "Where are you from?" I asked. "Here and there," the stylist replied. (tremor) (snip snip) (shake) "How's your Mamma and them? They all right? You got any kids? Are you married?" (Shake) The conversation continued this way for the next several moments. I would ask her a question and she would give me a one-word answer and then try and get me to start talking about myself. Now some people, and I'm one of 'em, get to talking about themselves and they can't concentrate on anything other than what is being discussed, which is them. (Shake) I finally realized that I was being distracted. If I wasn't really paying attention to my stylist it would be easier for me to overlook those trembling hands when they gently nudged my right ear with the tip of the scissors...

Mom's Turn

It's birthday time once again in the MA Fat Woman's family. Today is my Mom's birthday. Of course, I can't tell you how old she is because that wouldn't be daughterly. She is older than me but hasn't reached that age where she goes around telling everybody how old she is. For example: One might ask, "It sure is beautiful weather we're having." "I'm 87," might be the response. I'm really lucky to be her daughter. Mom always has a unique and mostly upbeat attitude about things which is very helpful during stressful times. Her calming manner has defused many a situation at home and at work. She's mostly retired now, and enjoys her dance lessons and Travel Club meetings. She's a fun person to be around and I'm glad she's my mom. Here's to you Mom! Happy Birthday!

Taking A Break

Mom has been badgering all winter that she wanted to take a short trip to the coast to show off her newer svelte self. I'm not one to put a damper on such festivities so with some saving, rearranging and an incredible price on a hotel room we have managed to secure a few days along the beautiful Georgia Coast. The timing really couldn't be better. Mom and I have both lost the ten pounds that we made a bet on and I have finally gotten to shave my legs. I'm glad too. I was starting to look like Bigfoot. Not a pretty picture. We're also going to be celebrating our birthdays. We are both Aries--that explains alot. I'm going to be doing some fishing. Mom will supervise my fishing and suggest alternate activities that she enjoys doing, which will in turn, needle me into supervising her while she reads her book. In my family we're all part of the management team and it's sometimes hard to get things done, even while you're on vacation. Actually, I hope to not be doing anything except relaxing and sitting out in the sun. I'm still trying to catch up on my Vitamin D.

Getting A Haircut...Part I

They say that the early bird catches the worm, but in my case, the early bird gets a 25% discount on a haircut at my local hair salon. It's not exactly "my" hair salon. I don't have a regular person that does my hair anymore. I used too, but I got tired of following my stylist from one location to the next. It seems she couldn't get along with any of the other stylists so she just moved from place to place. I asked her one time why she didn't want to open her own place and she said she didn't like to work alone. Nowadays, in my small town we got one of those places where no appointment is necessary. You walk right in and then spend the next fifteen minutes explaining to the new person how you want your hair cut. I can't stand that. Stop asking me questions and just cut my hair!! I don't need a guaranteed hair cut and I don't need any super uber expensive hair styling products. "Would you like me to wash your hair today?" (How much?) It's only 5 dollars more." (No) "Would you like me to blow dry your hair? (How much?) "It's 3 dollars." (No) "Would you like me to put some mousse in your hair?" (How much?) "It's free if you purchase the small 19.99 bottle of super secure hair bond from Saul Nitchell." (No, thanks) "You're a lot more friendly than my last client. She was rude and kept telling me to just cut her hair. I've heard some things about her and her ex husband that you wouldn't believe. How long you been in Georgia?" "Excuse me..."

Were You Expecting A Four Leaf Clover

I was expecting a leprechaun to jump out and say "Top 'O the morning to ya Lass. Where you be headin' today? Why are you all decked out in green? Are you fixin' potatoes today? Why are ye wearing me kilt? No, lass you can't look under me kilt to see if I'ma swinging or not. No, I don't know why me cheeks are so ruddy lookin' all the time. I'm sorry you didn't find out that your family name was Irish until you were 35. You got alotta drinkin' ta do ta ketch up! Here's a pint on me." It didn't happen, but hey, it was a great dream! Happy St. Patrick's Day !

My Friend Crotchety

Recently, my friend Joe, the boy genius behind Crotchety Old Man Yells At Cars celebrated his 500th birthday...err post. In the blogging world which dominates over everything else, this is a major accomplishment. I'm not sure if I have ever done anything 500 times. That's not true. I know for a fact that I have drunk at least 500 Diet Cokes in the past week, which in turn, has caused me to overuse the facilities at least 500 times and overflowing them at least twice. Thanks Old Man! Da old man as he likes to be called runs a tight blog over there. I love the Wednesday feature "Caption This" where you get to caption some of the most outrageous photos imaginable. I have a couple of personal photos that I wanted him to use but he told me they were too racy for his blog. He told me I should call Larry Flint up at Hustler magazine and tell him I'm available. I'm not too sure 'bout that. Crotchety lives all the way up there in New Jersey. I know it ain't his fault. He wanted me to come up for a visit but you know I turn into a Middle Aged Fat Woman every time I cross the Mason/Dixon line and nobody wants to be that. Another thing I like about Da old man is that he admits who he is. He is crotchety. He is an old man. And he yells at cars. You can't get more straightforward than that. Thanks for the laughs! Keep 'em coming.

D Is For Deficiency

I've been feeling a bit poorly lately. I have had all sorts of medical procedures. I've been stuck. I've been scanned. I've been x-rayed. I've been poked, prodded, and given more pills than a person should have to take. All of my tests have come back negative. (Which is a good thing) But, I am beginning to wonder if I might just be a hypochondriac. The doctors are running out of tests to perform. I am sick and tired of being sick and tired. Plus, I'm tired of dealing with those mean ladies that I have to pay my 20 dollar copay to every time I walk in the front door. Don't get me started on that! My doctor looked at me and said there was one more test that they could run. It was a simple blood test to check my Vitamin D level. Well, lo and behold, my Vitamin D level was half of what it was supposed to be. I looked at the guy and asked if I had Scurvy or something? I spend entirely too much time sitting around in the dark staring at a computer screen. What a difference a week makes! I have tried to spend a few minutes in the sun each day and have started a regimen of Vitamin D supplements. Have your Vitamin D level checked if you can. You might be deficient and not even know it.

Somebody Forgot To Tell The Cat

Recently, we had to do the spring forward thing and move our clocks ahead one hour. I have heard it mentioned that time is relative and one shouldn't live by what the hands on the clock say, but apparently, someone forgot to tell this to my cat. I've mentioned before that he gets fed at 5:00 AM and 5:00 PM, on the dot. The early mornings are a little rough, he'll jump on the bed, rattle the door knob or meow very loudly if I'm not up and moving at 5 o'clock. Somebody forgot to tell the cat to move his clock forward. Every morning since the time change I've gotten an extra hour of snooze time because my cat forgot to spring forward. I'm loving it! I'm not sure how much time I have before he figures it out. I guess it doesn't really matter, because it's all relative, right?

Thirteen Dollars...Part II

If you have never seen a 70ish woman giggle at the sight of her daughter trying on and removing an authentic beehive wig from the '60s then you're really missing out. I was laughing so hard I made myself have a coughing fit, began to hyperventilate and 'bout made myself throw up. Mom had tears running down her face and kept slapping her knee so hard that she gave herself a big bruise. As I started to go through some of the other boxes and items that Mom had set out I was met with a rush of memories and emotions from my childhood back on Cherry Fork Road. Sometimes, it's amazing how something so unassuming like a brightly colored orange crock pot circa 1975 can bring forth such powerful emotions. My Dad loved to cook white northern beans in that crock pot. To go along with those beans we would have fried potatoes and corn bread cooked in the cast iron skillet. I can smell them cooking right now. Other items that we thought had been lost but were now being rediscovered were my father's military uniforms from his hitch in the Army. I also found my cowboy hat from my childhood that I had forgotten having. It became apparent early on Sunday that it hadn't been such a good idea to have the yard sale on Sunday. After a tasty lunch of T'bone steaks [that Boy (my brother) cooked] and baked potatoes Mom finally agreed it was time to put the stuff away. We had zero, zilch, nada, no one and nobody come to the yard sale on Sunday. It took over four hours to put everything away and to take down the 20+ signs that Mom had put up all over town. Mom looked like someone had taken a bat to her body because of all the bruises she got from carrying the rubber totes around. I saw her clutch her chest once after lifting a box of National Geographic magazines from 1975 which gave me slight pause but she said she was okay. My bad knee won't bend at all and is stuck ramrod straight. We were exhausted. Mom said she had had such a good time and had made some money (125 bucks) that she was going to have the yard sale again in a few weeks. She said I could leave my stuff there if I wanted too and come back and help out once again. I'm not really sure about that. If you haven't figured it out by now I didn't really make any money in my two days of selling. Yep, I only made thirteen dollars!

Thirteen Dollars...Part I

"I'm having a yard sale on Friday and Saturday, why don't you bring some stuff up," Mom said. It sounded like a good idea at the time. I should have known better. If you have missed my previous stories regarding yard sales you can check them out here or here. I already had plans for Friday, but I took a load up Friday night so I wouldn't be rushed in the morning. In times past, the yard sales have all been held at my house. This was Mom's first time having a yard sale at her house. You see she lives way out of town, halfway up a mountain and in between two hollers where they still run shine on Friday and Saturday nights. It was really foggy Saturday morning, almost like it was raining. This moisture covered everything that we hadn't covered and kept all of the customers away until after lunch. You know Mom and I had a really good time sitting in the car, watching the dew or fog soak everything, just chatting, munching on chocolate chip cookies and wondering why in the world we decided to have another yard sale. Since the weather was supposed to be beautiful on Sunday we decided to leave all of the stuff out. You would've thought Mom was moving with the amount of stuff she had set out. It seems she has cleaned out several storage units and finally unpacked the last remaining boxes from the move back in 1985. Talk about finding stuff you didn't remember having...I found my training bra from 1979 and Mom found one of those beehive wigs that all the women wore back in the 60's. When I first saw the wig I thought it was a rat's nest until Mom plopped it on her head. We giggled like a bunch of school kids...

Mom's Sweet Tooth

It wasn't until a few months ago that I learned just how bad a sweet tooth my mom has. Last year when we took off for a short trip down to Biloxi to stay at one of those fancy casinos Mom was in heaven. You've heard the term two fisted drinker, well, Mom is a two handed dessert eater. She would come back from the dessert table with two or three plates in each hand. I'm not kidding, she spent more time at the dessert buffet than I did at the Craps table. I asked her when she started liking dessert so much. She told me that she always loved dessert but the rest of the family would have already eaten everything before she got around to seconds. I called her today and asked what she was doing? She said she was getting ready for a yard sale at her house. (Oh no) And she was also eating her lunch. Of course, I wanted to know what she was having? Chocolate cake! Mom was having chocolate cake for lunch, for lunch mind you, not dessert. I wanted to know why she didn't have any cake when I stayed at her house last week. She said I probably would've eaten most of it and wasn't I trying to lose some weight. She had a point there. I then reminded her that she was supposed to be losing some weight too. Silence! Then she said this: "Nobody, and I mean nobody is going to tell me that I can't bake my cake and eat it too!" "Goodbye!" Click!

Activating A Credit Card...Part II

I really didn’t know I was so lucky. Somehow I lucked out to receive a new credit card from the same company that sent me a new credit card six months ago. If you missed that story you can check it out here. No wonder these companies are in such sad shape. The latest ploy from this credit card company is to keep sending me new cards before my current card expires. How stupid is that? I usually just shred the new card. It has the same account number and expiration date. They just want to get your current phone number so they can bug the crap out of you. I wonder what would happen if I didn’t call from my home number? Would they still activate my card? I’ve had the new card for several weeks but I’m trying to get things in order, tidying up loose ends and completing miscellaneous tasks. I sat around all afternoon and had basically worked myself into a tizzy. Talk about somebody having a bad attitude. I was P ‘od and I hadn’t even talked to anybody yet. I called the 1-800-charge-your-life-away activation number and was prepared to speak with Radji Patel from Mumbai when I got Perky Penelope from Peoria. (Doing my best Valley Girl impression) “Like, hello? Is there anyone like there? Oh my gawd! Thanks for calling … thanks for calling… oh my gawd, like where do I work? Hello? This is so, like, totally tubular! Hello? Chelseigh, I don’t think anyone is like there. Hello? Like, hello already. I’m like hanging up if you don’t say something. I mean it, totally.” Click!

Longing For A Sitcom

Is there anything funny on television anymore? I really don’t get most of these new sitcoms on today. I hear 30Rock is pretty funny, but it’s on opposite of CSI, and I really like to watch that. Saturday Night Live was actually funny this year. The impressions of Sarah Palin were hysterical. I miss Chevy Chase and Dan Akroyd. I think the best sitcom of all time was the Golden Girls. The comedic timing and go between amongst these actors was quite amazing. Was there ever a better character than the slutty Blanche Deavereaux? What about the sweet dumbness of Rose Nyland? You couldn’t forget the mother/daughter team of Dorothy and Sophia. These women were funny. When I flip though today’s sitcoms I barely pause, they don’t make me laugh, they make me puke. I can write funnier stuff than these guys come up with. The Golden Girls not only make me laugh, they make me laugh out loud. It’s hard to find the show’s reruns. In my area they are on the Hallmark Channel at 4:00 PM. If you need a good belly laugh and you can find them, take the time to catch an episode. You’ll be glad you did.

Don't Quit Your Day Job

I'm trying to incorporate a little more fruit in my diet. I'm a little particular about the fruits that I like to eat. I guess you could say that I am a 'meat and potatoes' kind of fruit eater. I like the basic fruits such as bananas, pineapples, and strawberries. I really like strawberries, in fact, at one time, my nickname was Strawberry. In the fifth grade every piece of clothing I owned had a strawberry on it. I even had strawberry shoelaces, so everyone called me Strawberry. I really like this time of year at the grocery store. It's when the first crop of new strawberries start arriving at the grocery store and they are usually on sale. A few days ago I was browsing the produce section when I came across the strawberry display. The display had recently been restocked but there was a few containers with not so fresh berries. When I shop for berries I pick the container up and carefully look over the carton making sure all of the strawberries are in good shape, not too ripe. I usually have to do this several times before I make my selection. Normally, this doesn't create a problem for me. I pick the container up, give it the once over, and put it back in its spot. This time I wasn't so lucky. Every carton I tried to replace kept rolling or tried to fall off the display. You've seen those really big displays that you are afraid to touch in fear that one misplaced finger can cause the entire thing to come crashing to the floor. The strawberry display wasn't that big but I sure had fruit falling everywhere. I seemed incapable of placing the containers back properly. As I tentatively reached for what I thought was the perfect container of strawberries the whole display started to sway to the left, cartons from the top started rolling towards the bottom and the cartons on the bottom started for the floor. I panicked. I started grabbing for berries and kept coming up empty handed. With furtive glances around me to see if I was being watched I was surprised to see the manager of the grocery store walk straight up to me, grab the strawberry containers that I was holding, catch the ones that were about to fall and put everything back in its place. As he walked away he left me with this parting remark: "Don't give up your day job! The stacking of the fruit is a lot harder than it looks."